


Until Our Hearts Stop

by irisbleufic



Series: Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed [14]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Alliances, Apologies, Canon Autistic Character, Canon Character of Color, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Cemetery, Crimes & Criminals, Dysfunctional Family, Epilogue, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Female Character of Color, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Murder Husbands, POV Fish Mooney, Parent-Child Relationship, Reconciliation, Stalking, Unconventional Families, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 23:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11301147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “I got the Cliff's Notes version from your interview with Hearst,” Fish said, smiling without malice, letting her words do the rest. “Common ground in adversity, is that it? Do you comfort each other when you wake up screaming about what they did to you in Arkham? Or is it that you so desperately need to be needed, and he so desperately wants to be wanted? Sounds like a match made in heaven.”[Bonus-ficlet epilogue from Fish Mooney's POV, as promised; directly followsWYFIR #30.]





	Until Our Hearts Stop

From afar, they looked like this: two well-dressed young men paying respects at a mother's grave.

Their backs were turned, but the taller of the two held a spray of lilies that protruded from the crook of his arm. Splash of watercolor against a landscape of frost-rimed stone and grass patchy with snow remnants. Bermudas and Stargazers, white and pink, the latter freckled with brown.

Green-coated, the one with flowers. Dark horse, a stranger, both of his names gleaned from the press.

Black-coated, the one with the cane. Beloved son, a danger, both of his names as familiar as death.

Enough of this brief, squinting first glimpse. Trusting mismatched retinas, lenses, and musculature of irises to act in concert over such a distance was laughable. Green and black, meet blue and brown. 

Fish pursed her lips, raising the binoculars to her eyes. She could have opted for better concealment than standing beneath a leaf-bare tree, tinted fur collar and highlights of her hair a crimson stain.

“So this is how you apologize,” she murmured with disdain, “for giving our Oswald the run-around.”

Through binoculars, the movement of their lips as they spoke to one another shed no light on the words themselves. They conferred like that for more than a minute; Oswald's glances down the rise to where a limousine waited were, if not nervous, conspicuous. 

The chauffeur leaned against the hood with a cigarette while her leather-clad companion, hair a messy spill of black and blue, looked on in fond disapproval. She tapped the chauffeur's knee with her gun.

Fish shifted the binoculars back to her primary objects of concern, unsurprised at the arresting sight.

Oswald kissed Edward Nygma like he wished the entire world was watching, and maybe it was. 

Nygma dropped the flowers, an accident by the look of it. They drew apart in startled laughter.

While Nygma retrieved the flowers, Oswald turned—knowing, poised—and stared directly at Fish.

“That's what I thought,” Fish said, lowering the binoculars, crooking a finger. “Get your ass over here.”

She watched as Oswald gave Nygma some kind of instruction, pointing at Gertrud Kapelput's stone, before leaving him with another kiss. He made his way across the grass, the difficulty of his gait speaking to the rigors through which Nygma's rescue had put him several days before.

“Oswald, darling,” she said, appreciating how completely still her palms pressed to his cheeks rendered him. “How good to see you're investing with an eye toward turning the club back around. I can't say care much for what those ungrateful floozies have done to it.”

“They've made the extent of renovations I'll have to do quite minimal,” Oswald said, his smirk a defiant challenge. “Surely I should thank them for that. I hope you've been well?”

“As well as life on the down-low with highly unstable DNA has permitted,” Fish said, releasing him, taking a step back to study him from head to toe. “Tell me,” she said, indicating the understated platinum band on his left ring-finger, “how in the _world_ did you end up married to that GCPD forensics flunky turned green-suited menace?”

“Oh, the usual way,” replied Oswald, sarcasm spilling over. “He proposed, and I said yes. I'm sure you have no interest in the gory—and I _literally_ mean gory—details of our courtship these past couple years. But I have the feeling you know more than you let on, seeing as you've stalked us.”

“I got the Cliff's Notes version from your interview with Hearst,” Fish said, smiling without malice, letting her words do the rest. “Common ground in adversity, is that it? Do you comfort each other when you wake up screaming about what they did to you in Arkham? Or is it that you so desperately need to be needed, and he so desperately wants to be wanted? Sounds like a match made in heaven.”

“I don't understand why you just can't be happy for me,” said Oswald, genuinely stung. “I'm devoted to Edward; that isn't going to change. I'll love him until our hearts stop. Something tells me it's a stretch for me to expect you to understand—”

“That boy is trouble, Oswald,” Fish insisted grimly. “He'll bring you trouble all the rest of your days.”

“I've made peace with that, _Fish_ ,” Oswald spat, his venom steadfast. “Just like you did with me.”

If Oswald was offended by the good thirty seconds she spent laughing, he didn't show it, his mouth having reset itself to a thin, inscrutable line.

Fish tapped her temple, grinning at him. “That's what I like to see,” she said. “That fight in you, that _fire_. Don't let anybody put it out.”

“Seeing as you've been busy,” Oswald said, stepping closer, “did you find anything else of interest?”

“Strange was helping the Court,” Fish replied. “He made an airborne version of the virus possible.”

“It would be too much to hope he met the same fate as Kathryn's most loyal lapdogs,” Oswald replied.

“We killed some stragglers,” Fish confirmed. “Rogue Talons and lab technicians, mostly. Easy as pie.”

“But you didn't capture Strange?” Oswald sighed, shifting his grip on his cane. “That's not reassuring.”

Fish fought the urge to backhand him for old times' sake, as a reminder, but Nygma had chosen that moment to approach. He had a pistol drawn, as did the two women who flanked him.

“Lay another finger on Oswald,” he said, tone impossibly low and cold, “and you're dead in the water.”

Fish tilted her head at Nygma, but kept her eyes on Oswald. She raised her hands in a mockery of surrender.

“What a charming introduction to my new son-in-law,” she said. “He'd kill for you. How touching.”

“We've killed for each other,” said Oswald, indulgently, shooting Nygma a stern glance. “Put it down.”

Nygma sighed in disappointment, putting the gun away. He nodded to the women, who did the same.

“Belated congratulations to the happy couple,” sneered Fish, with something akin to genuine joy. “You were about to press me for more information, Oswald, weren't you? Re-forge an alliance?”

“This city is mine,” Oswald said, soothingly patting Nygma's wrist, “but I'd prefer to have you in it.”

“There's a masked vigilante in the streets,” Fish told him. “Took out some petty muggers, roughed up one of my crew on reconnaissance. Uses fire escapes and keeps to the rooftops. Sound familiar?”

“No,” Oswald said, frowning at Nygma, “but I have some new staff that we might...turn loose on it.”

“If you're talking about Misses Kyle, Pepper, and Pike,” said Fish, slowly, “that's an intelligent call.”

“I learned from the best,” said Oswald, impishly self-deprecating. He glanced at Nygma, as if obtaining implicit approval for what he was about to say. “It's Sunday afternoon. Join us for lunch?”

Fish glanced over her shoulder, signaling for her own crew to stand down, and offered him her hand.


End file.
